Echoes
by Greywolf Lupous
Summary: Everything had changed, was changing, and it was like he was still caught in an echo of another time.


_Originally written on Tumblr for the prompt: "The way you said I love you: Too quick, mumbled into your scarf." Canonicity probably in flux as of... *checks watch* Thursday._

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"I love you."

Those words had never come to Theron easy—the first time he gave voice to them he was half-convinced that he was going to throw up, his stomach tied up in a tangle of knots. The tension had only eased once the sentiment had been enthusiastically returned, drowned out by a wave of relief and elation that washed over him completely.

It had gotten easier after that. Like some sort of gate had been opened, they flowed out, each time easier than the next. Each time he uttered those three words it seemed to make it all more real. More permanent. Every time she said it back it felt like some missing puzzle piece slotting into place.

By the time they had stepped into the Order's trap on Iokath, the back-and-forth response was almost as natural as breathing. An automatic phrase they exchanged to each other like a hello and goodbye. So automatic, so ingrained that he couldn't help but utter it on the train on Umbara, even though those slithery bastards had been listening in. Couldn't stop himself from whispering it brokenly to a shimmering holo begging him to come back home. Couldn't keep himself from writing it into a letter.

Because it was the one constant he knew to be true—and his new, innocuous habit had suddenly become a lifeline. A reminder to focus him each day. Even if it was only said silently, inside of his head to a memory of a smiling face.

Even if he wasn't sure if he'd ever hear it echoed back to him ever again.

Because as tight as her hug around his neck had been the moment the ruse had been revealed, and as feverish and desperate as their kisses and ensuing lovemaking had been the first moment they'd gotten alone — he'd felt the shift between them. That unwavering faith and trust had been fractured, and he felt the weight of what he'd wrought pressing into him in each hesitation of her touch. In the way she now leaned away rather than into him. In the thick silence that hung in the room when they ran out of words to say.

In those moments more than any other, those words hovered on the tip of his tongue. Ready to spill out if he could only figure out where his voice had gone. It was possible he had gone too long just repeating it in his head and his mouth had just forgotten how to form just those three words when strung together. At least, that's what he thought to himself bitterly when each moment he should have said it passed by. Easier to lie to himself than admit that he didn't want to chance the phrase being met with nothing but silence.

Odessen felt strange now, almost foreign after being gone for what felt like a lifetime. Their old quarters they shared somehow colder and less inviting than he remembered. Between the hostile and untrusting stares he was greeted with and the natural changes that happened over the course of time at a busy base, home didn't feel like home anymore. It was like life had just gone on without him. Apparently the world didn't stop just because Theron Shan had gone undercover.

(Although it definitely would have if he _hadn't_ , he thought to himself bitterly.)

Even the things he had somehow always thought would never go away had been quietly retired when he wasn't looking. His old red leatheris jacket that he'd found a way to smuggle back to her sat nearly forgotten in the closet. It was like staring at some old skin he'd shed, and a part of him was afraid to try it on in case it didn't fit — like he'd lost something precious and irretrievable while he'd been gone. Maybe it was that same piece of him that had forgotten how to form a simple sentence to the woman he loved.

But their time apart had changed her too, and she'd shed her old skin as well. Sitting next to his nearly forgotten jacket was an old and battered cape and set of armor that had seen her through almost everything. She'd set aside the ridiculous pauldrons and gauntlets for a much more sensible and low-key ensemble, much more resembling the Jedi she'd always strived to be. The flowing embroidered cape had been exchanged for a simple tabard adorned with long scarves that billowed behind her each step.

Although he had to admit, the color did suit her. The deep azure seemed so much brighter out in the sunlight, the rich hue making her stand out even more now. Like someone had plucked out a distant star and set it down amongst them. For a moment all he could do was stare, mesmerized by the way the deep blue of the tabard seemed to reflect off her eyes, or the way the wind rippled through her hair, each blond strand tossed about and twined together, sometimes obscured by the scarves trailing behind her. For that quiet moment, it was like the time, distance, and circumstance that had separated them collapsed in on itself, and his fingers had caught the edges of the fluttering fabric of the scarf, drawing it closer as something welled up in chest, escaping out of him before he had a chance to stop it.

"I love you."

The words tumbled out so quick they nearly blended into each other. For a moment he had thought they'd been carried away on the wind, but apparently not, as she began to turn slowly, dark blonde brows drawing up together into an inscrutable expression. Something tightened around his chest, and it was that more difficult to draw in his next breath as he waited in the inevitable silence.

And just like that, something in the air shifted around them. Her expression melted into a soft, familiar smile as her arms gently pulled him in, fingers weaving through the short and rough hairs that were only beginning to grow back from where they'd been hastily shaved away. Her next words were soft, but just as heartfelt as the first time they had been uttered back before any of this madness had begun — and just as or even more beautiful now than they had been then.

"I love you too, Theron."


End file.
